


Off the Edge

by EmonyDeborah



Series: Seize the Day and Seize the May [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: "major character death" is Phil, AU, Attempted Suicide, Bahrain, Battle of New York, Confrontation, F/M, Forced Vomiting, Happy Ending, May was an Avenger, Miscarriage, Nightmares, Pregnancy, Season 2, Vomiting, Will update tags, but he'll be back, it's his superpower, skye needs to check herself before she wrecks herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmonyDeborah/pseuds/EmonyDeborah
Summary: Everything in Melinda May's life that should have brought her joy only brought pain. But she kept giving, and life kept taking, until it finally gave something back.sequel to "In which Phil is pretty dumb, but not dumb enough to pass up a good thing when he sees it".
Relationships: Clint Barton & Melinda May, Melinda May & Jemma Simmons, Melinda May & Natasha Romanoff, Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Minor Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons - Relationship, Phil Coulson/Melinda May, Victoria Hand & Melinda May
Series: Seize the Day and Seize the May [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017385
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: It's in the tags and there's a warning in the body of the fic, but there are a suicide attempt and graphic descriptions of vomiting in this.

Natasha had tried to show him how to do it, but the place in his phone’s settings where he could program in a ‘shortcut’ was bafflingly difficult to find, so Nat had just rolled her eyes and snatched his phone with ease.

“I’ll put in all the essential ones,” she had said. Phil had crossed his arms, but hadn’t hid his smile. “‘Btw’, ‘idk’, ‘idc’, ‘smh’-”

“Besides btw, I don’t know what any of that means,” Phil had said, but Nat had only smirked.

“‘Istg’, ‘jk’, ‘tbh’, ‘ily’-”

He still didn’t know what half of them meant, but he had figured out a few. Phil hefted the huge, experimental gun onto his shoulder and pulled out his phone. He tapped in three letters, waited a split-second to make sure it sent, then ran down the hallway towards the containment module.

Miles away, Melinda’s phone lit up.

* * *

“Sir, those were in Coulson’s locker,” Maria said. Fury just stared after Steve Rogers, ignoring the bloody cards on the table.

“They needed the push.”

Maria’s jaw tightened momentarily, but she didn’t object. Phil didn’t need them anymore. Maria tried not to let her stomach lurch at the thought.

Phil Coulson had been a constant at SHIELD as long as she had. Cadets learned about him in class, read his reports, studied his cases. But Maria had known him since before he was Fury’s famously dependable good eye, and more than almost anyone she knew what SHIELD had lost.

SHIELD had lost one of the few top level agents who truly believed in the goodness of humanity and the rightness of SHIELD’s mission; Maria herself had fallen into cynicism long ago, and no one really knew Fury’s motivations, but no one would ever assume they came from the goodness of his heart. Phil Coulson had embodied everything the organization was meant to be, from his faith in the mission to his willingness to die for the cause. There would never be another agent like him. Or another friend.

Maria stood behind Fury, staring sightlessly at the floor. She knew they were both wondering the same thing: how were any of them going to manage?

Slowly, the beeps and shuffles of the command center worked their way back into her senses, and Maria blinked when she noticed a young agent at her elbow, holding out a tablet and looking nervous.

“Uh, Commander-” Maria tapped the frequency on the screen and a hard voice crackled through her earpiece. Maria’s eyes widened and her fingers clenched around the tablet. A pit opened in her chest.

“Sir-” Fury turned his head. “Agent May is requesting permission to dock.” Fury’s shoulders, slumped with the weight of a power-mad mind-controlling god on the loose, tensed. He whipped around to face her, barely managing to conceal his horror. He met her eyes and she pressed her lips into a line, waiting for his orders. Fury let out a long breath, as if he were deflating.

“Damn.” Maria stood motionless, tablet in hand. “Permission granted.”

* * *

“Where is he?”

“Melinda-”

“Where is he, Hill?” Maria grimaced but took the use of her last name as a cue. She straightened and spoke as if she were delivering a mission report, meeting Melinda’s determined eyes head on.

“Med bay. They called it on the scene.” Shock flickered in Melinda’s eyes, and Maria knew it was bad when she didn’t try to hide it. But Melinda pursed her lips to keep them from trembling and fixed her with a hard look.

“Take me to him.” Maria didn’t hesitate. She strode away down the hall, and she didn’t have to think before shortening her steps to match strides with Melinda’s normal pace.

The med bay wasn’t a long walk from the deck, but it felt like the longest silence of Maria’s life. Melinda didn’t speak, didn’t ask how it happened, who had done it. The spy in Maria, the agent who was second-in-command of this vessel, wanted to ask how Melinda had been informed. Wondered whether there was a leak. But she didn’t speak. 

Melinda stood next to Maria in the elevator with the same shock in her eyes. Maria sensed more than saw Melinda clenching her fists, and she didn’t look down to confirm. Neither of them moved until the elevator doors slid open, and Maria led Melinda to the med bay without a word.

There were a few battered agents crowded in one side of the room, all of them studiously ignoring the black body bag on the farthest bed. Melinda stiffened in the doorway.

“Is anyone dying?” Maria asked curtly. No one spoke. “Then out.” Maybe they were intimidated, maybe they saw how Melinda was staring at the bag and put two and two together. It didn’t matter. The room cleared without protest. Maria slipped out after the last agent, brushing her fingertips against Melinda’s elbow as she went. Melinda didn’t react.

* * *

She didn’t open the bag. Part of her wanted to, but she knew if she opened the bag and saw his face, all the resolve in the world wouldn’t be able to keep her from breaking down and sobbing on the floor. So she stood next to the bed, aching to touch him one last time, but not allowing herself that comfort.

She should have been there. He had wanted her there, had roped her into looking over every page of paperwork related to the Avengers Initiative, had called and asked her to come in after Clint had been compromised. A spike of protective fear had gone through her heart and she had almost left her cubicle, but she had told herself Natasha would handle it. They didn’t need her. She made things worse.

He had needed her, and she had turned away.

In twenty-two years of marriage, he had  _ never  _ turned away from her. Not after their botched first mission, not after the first time she had been shot and hadn’t wanted his concern, not after she had agreed to train an ex-KGB agent turned SHIELD asset without telling him. He hadn’t abandoned her after Bahrain, when he had all but dragged her to the hospital because she had refused to go. The doctors had told him “she lost the baby,” and, “oh, I’m sorry, we thought you knew,” and still Phil hadn’t left her side. For two months a human had grown inside her, and she hadn’t known until they were gone. Any other mother would have known, would have felt the changes in her body. Melinda hadn’t realized until it was too late. But still, Phil had stayed, in the weeks and months after when she barely spoke to him and never let him touch her. When she had finally whispered the truth about the girl through the dark, believing him to be asleep, he hadn’t reeled back in disgust. He had wrapped himself around her and told her over and over that he loved her, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Every shaky step she had taken towards feeling again,  _ wanting  _ to feel again, he had been beside her.

And when he had needed her, she hadn’t been there. She had been working in her cubicle, determinedly not thinking about Clint and whether he would be okay. They didn’t need her, she had told herself. They’re fine. Her phone had buzzed, and she had glanced away from her budgeting reports.

_ I love you. _

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Melinda’s heart had stopped in her chest. Without a thought she had left her desk, grabbing her jacket and badge while calling a different number.

“Vic, I need a plane. Any plane.”

The moment she had seen Maria’s face, she had known. Even on the phone with Vic, she had known, but for once she had allowed herself hope.

She had given up on hope a long time ago, and for good reason. Hope played no part in a successful mission. And it certainly hadn’t kept Phil alive.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” she said to the body bag. “I should have been here. I should have stopped it.”

There was no answer.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and she could almost hear Phil saying it wasn’t her fault as she left the med bay.

* * *

“He’s really gone?” Natasha nodded, staring at the wall.

“Yeah. Loki stabbed him.” Clint clenched his jaw and took a breath through his nose, a calming technique that had become a habit years ago. He had hated learning to meditate, and May had hated teaching him. His heart squeezed in his chest.

“Did anyone tell Mel?” he asked, and Natasha’s shoulders drooped.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’ll ask Hill.” But she made no move to get up. Clint didn’t push her; they both needed a moment to be quiet together. Something else they had both hated to learn, but had served them well.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, the door swished open.

“Barton, Romanoff.” Natasha straightened at her name and gave her SO a wary look. May raised an eyebrow at Clint. He nodded.

“Nat knocked some sense into me.” On another day, May would have smirked. She had been smirking again recently, rolling her eyes at Clint’s antics, smiling whenever Natasha said something snarky. But whatever life had been coming back to her was gone; her eyes were dark and cold.

“You good to kill some aliens?” Old May hadn’t liked killing. She had greatly enjoyed fighting, but had dreaded killing, even people who deserved it. When Clint had been Coulson’s rookie it had confused him that a warrior with May’s skills wouldn’t relish putting people down. 

He certainly had. 

But she and Coulson had slowly worked that out of him, piece by piece, mission by mission, sparring session by sparring session. May had taught him how to pin a man to the ground with an arrow without killing him, and Coulson had taught him to disarm an opponent with a clueless attitude before it even came to shooting. Under the guise of training, they had shaped the murderer he had been into a human being. 

He hadn’t fully appreciated their efforts until Natasha was pinning him to the ground for the fourth time that day, screaming that she’d kill him. But May had just nudged Natasha away and peeled Clint off the floor, and together they had returned to convincing a scared, lonely woman they weren’t trying to kill her. Helping train Natasha had been one of the most draining efforts in Clint’s life, but it had helped him realize what May and Coulson had done for him. They hadn’t given up on him, or Natasha. So he hadn’t, either.

But Coulson was gone, and he had taken that warm, caring May with him. Guilt and grief and rage roared through Clint’s body- guilt for the part he had played in Loki’s plans, grief for two of the only people who had ever cared for him, and rage to end the monsters who had taken them.

Clint couldn’t kill Loki, he wasn’t a god. But he could absolutely take out as much of his army as possible.

Clint glanced at Natasha, and she pressed her lips into a line.

“Yeah,” he said, and looked up at May. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“All right, listen up.” Rogers looked up at the portal, his mouth set in a determined line. Aliens streamed out of it like ants from an anthill. “Until we can close that portal our priority is containment. Barton-” Clint snapped his head towards Rogers, waiting for orders. His knuckles were white around his bow, and Natasha felt her first spike of real fear. Either she would be fine or she wouldn’t, that was how it worked, but Clint had more to live for, and she had let him come down here. “-I want you on that roof, call out patterns and strays. Stark, you’ve got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, turn it back or turn it to ash.”

“Wanna give me a boost?” Clint met Natasha’s eyes for less than a second, and she knew he was feeling that same fear for her.

“Yeah, might want to clench up, Legolas,” Tony said. He grabbed Clint by the scruff and they blasted into the air. Natasha watched them go as Rogers continued.

“Thor, you’ve gotta try and bottle neck that portal. Slow ‘em down. You’ve got the lightning, light the bastards up.” With a grim look, Thor swung his hammer and flew into the air, straight for the top of Stark Tower. Tony dropped Clint safely on the roof of the building, and Natasha looked to Rogers. “You and me, we stay here on the ground, keep the fighting here.” Natasha nodded. Rogers glanced down the street. “Will Agent May be back?”

Natasha cocked her handgun. May had disappeared without a word shortly after landing the flaming quinjet. Loki had flashed by on his speeder, Natasha had turned, and May had been gone. “She’ll pull her weight.” Rogers gave her a terse nod, and turned to the Hulk.

“And Hulk-” Hulk grunted, and Rogers pointed into the air. “-smash.” Hulk grinned.

It was the most chaotic battle Natasha had ever been part of. Her standard mission was get in, complete the mission, get out. If Clint was along, explosions were more likely, but this was still out of her wheelhouse. An army of alien soldiers with huge alien guns and scepters converged on them from every angle, and for what felt like a long time, Natasha’s life condensed into gunshots and pain and alien shrieks.

They were huge, and powerful, but they went down at the first hit. Natasha shot one in the face, grabbed another by the head, and swung herself around its neck to kick another in the abdomen. They dropped like flies. Heavy flies, that got in a few punches first. All the while, she was aware of Rogers a few feet away, brandishing his shield and yelling with every blow. May would have rolled her eyes at his technique, but it was effective enough. Natasha darted to the side, ducked under an alien’s arm, and rammed it into one of its friends.

A massive clawed hand smacked her into a car, and Natasha barely managed to roll over before a scepter slashed her in half. She jabbed one of her bites into the alien’s neck and shoved its writhing body off her. Rogers caved in an alien skull and staggered to his feet.

There was a lull as another squadron flew by overhead. Natasha took a few deep breaths and forced herself to her feet.

“Nice moves,” Rogers panted, and Natasha quirked half a smile.

“It won’t be worth anything if we can’t close that portal.” Rogers followed her gaze, and they both stared up at the rip in the universe. Natasha saw stars on the other side, and was almost crushed with the hopelessness of what they were trying to do. This was an alien invasion. This was armageddon.

And Coulson had died trying to stop it. Natasha set her jaw.

“You got a plan to get up there?” Rogers asked. Another squadron flew over their heads, and Natasha frowned up at them. There was a gunshot, and one of the speeders tumbled out of the sky as Rogers and Natasha whipped around. Natasha grinned.

“I could catch a ride.” She met Rogers’ disbelieving eyes. “Could use a boost, though.”

“How did she-?”

“After we save the world, Rogers,” Natasha said, because they were going to. Coulson was dead but there was still hope, always, as long as she was willing to fight.

And Natasha liked to fight. She leaped onto Rogers’ shield and he launched her into the air, straight into the path of an approaching speeder.

“You know,” she shouted over the wind as she clambered onto the platform. “I was gonna get a taxi, but this’ll do.” May said nothing, only glanced back at her, but Natasha thought she saw a trace of a smile.

May piloted the alien craft through the city at dizzying speeds, whipping around corners and catapulting over buildings with reckless abandon. They overtook another squadron and May tossed Natasha her handgun; Natasha took great pleasure in squeezing off each shot and watching them fall out of the sky.

“I was telling Clint-” May took a sharp turn and Natasha nearly tumbled overboard. “-this is like Budapest all over again.”

“You and I remember Budapest differently,” May shouted, and Natasha’s face split into a wide grin.

“That’s what Clint said!” May ducked the speeder under an oncoming team, and Natasha managed to shoot four aliens in the back as they sped away. “We need to get to the tower,” Natasha yelled. “We need to shut the portal.” May pulled up on the controls and they rose over the city and most of the conflict. Natasha shot a few aliens off the sides of some buildings.

The speeder jolted and Natasha instinctively threw herself to the floor of the platform. She peeked over the edge.

“This guy,” she growled, and impossibly, Loki seemed to hear her. He smirked and pointed his scepter at their speeder in a command. Four crafts’ worth of alien soldiers opened fire on them, and May stayed hard on course, but with a new tension in her shoulders. Her hands twitched.

“May.” May’s head tilted toward her voice, but she betrayed no other reaction. Natasha squeezed off a few shots, but only managed to take out one of the shooters. “May, the tower. We can handle Loki later.” Another volley hit the speeder and slammed Natasha to one side. May tilted the speeder to give her more cover. The tendons in her neck stood out like rope. “May!” Natasha yelled as they were hit again. “Evasive maneuvers! May!” Loki aimed his scepter at them with a sardonic grin, ready to take them out. Natasha’s eyes darted from Loki to his honor guard to their speeders, trying to calculate how to inflict the most damage with the few bullets she had left. “May!”

“I got him,” a voice crackled in her ear, and Loki’s hand whipped up and plucked something out of the air. He smirked as if he had won.

Clint’s arrow exploded. Loki left a trail of smoke as he plummeted from his craft to Stark’s tower, and Clint whooped over the comms. 

May dove after Loki, ignoring Natasha’s screams. Natasha fought the wind to claw her way up to May and grabbed her shoulder, but May threw her off. Her face was twisted in hate and her teeth were bared, and for a split-second Natasha didn’t recognize her.

“May!” she barked in a commanding tone. It was the voice Victoria and Maria used when May had gone over the line, and May’s face twitched. “This is not the mission!” She reached around May to grab the controls herself, and May didn’t resist as Natasha pulled them to the side. “Get me to that thing!” Natasha ordered, pointing at the device Loki had used to open the portal. May didn’t answer. She shrugged Natasha off and looped back around towards the tower.

“I can’t land this thing,” May called back as they approached. Her shoulders were stiff.

“Understood.” Natasha tapped May with her handgun. “You want this back?” May shook her head, keeping her eyes trained on the tower.

“You keep it.” The tower swelled in Natasha’s vision until it was all she could see. “Now!” May barked, and Natasha jumped. She tucked and rolled and May peeled away at a sharp angle. Natasha watched until she was sure May wasn’t pulling around for another kamikaze run, then turned to the machine.

* * *

“Taxi!” Natasha pressed her comm deeper into her ear, as if that would somehow make the signal clearer. Tony flashed by her on a rapid, uncontrolled descent. “Taxi!”

“Shut up, I’m flying!” Natasha leaned over the edge of the tower, watching Tony fall with hawklike intensity. May appeared around a building, hurtling down until her trajectory was parallel with Tony’s. She maneuvered directly underneath him, and Natasha’s breath caught when May finally pulled up, barely ten yards from the ground. But to stop on a dime would have been as deadly to Tony as slamming to the ground, and May couldn’t control the fall. The craft crashed into the street, and both May and Tony were thrown clear.

Thor swung his hammer and with a bound that spanned the length of a block, Natasha saw him catch May over his shoulder. Tony, in his armor, was not so lucky, and Rogers and Hulk hurried to his crumpled form. Natasha waited with bated breath, her hand over her comm.

“Romanoff, Barton? Check in.” Natasha bit back a gasp. She never thought she would hear May’s voice over comms again.

“I’m good,” she said. “I have Loki’s scepter.”

“I’m fine,” Clint said, and he sounded exhausted, but not pained. Some of the tightness in Natasha’s chest relaxed. “On my way to you. How’s Stark?”

Thor leaped to Tony’s side with one arm wrapped around May’s waist. May stepped away immediately to examine Tony, and even though she knew she was too far, Natasha still squinted in an attempt to gauge May’s expression.

May’s exasperated voice crackled through comms. “He’s fine.” Natasha let out a long breath. “Romanoff, we’re coming up to you.” It took her a second to remember, but then Natasha’s heart squeezed.

“Affirmative, Agent May.”

* * *

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll have that drink now.” Natasha’s knuckles whitened around Loki’s scepter. He smiled up at them almost sheepishly, like a child caught cheating in a game.

Clint’s muscles flexed and Natasha knew how badly he wanted to loose his arrow, but he gritted his teeth and stayed still. Thor crossed his arms, face stony, and turned to May in the back of the group.

“I would ask that you not kill him, May,” he said in his deep voice, “wife of Coulson.” Loki’s eyes widened. “He will face justice on Asgard. But I have no other restraints.” May nodded minutely. She stepped forward, and the Avengers parted before her.

She looked expressionlessly down at Loki, who had the gall to smile nervously. Without warning, May delivered a vicious kick to his side with her steel toed boot. Loki grunted and curled in on himself, clutching his ribs.

“Ow,” he muttered. May slammed her heel into his stomach. Wild, manic, pained energy was rolling off her in waves, and Natasha knew she was on a knife’s edge between calm and insane. May pulled back and Loki relaxed slightly. Natasha smirked.

May punched Loki in the face with enough force to smash his head into the ground. His eyes rolled back in his head.

“Nice hit.” They all ignored Tony, but somehow his quiet words broke the tension. All the fight drained from May at once, and Clint and Natasha surged forward as one to each wrap an arm around her shoulders as Rogers and Thor restrained Loki. May let them hold her while SHIELD agents took possession of Loki’s staff and the Tesseract, and while Tony pestered everyone into agreeing to go have lunch with him.

* * *

“Romanoff. Barton.” Natasha sagged in relief, and at her side, May looked up. The others filed out of the elevator, instinctively keeping a wide berth of Victoria Hand. Hand’s face softened. “May.”

“Hand.” Natasha and Clint slipped away to a safe distance and May took a shaky step out of the elevator. “Load of help you were.” Hand smirked.

“Who do you think mobilized the national guard?” she said. “You think they were just ready to go without warning?” May remained expressionless, but her shoulders drooped in exhaustion. Natasha twitched to hug her, but she knew better than to get between them. Hand tilted her head.

“Where are they going?” she asked, gesturing over her shoulder at the Avengers milling around the door. May said nothing, and Hand glanced at Natasha and raised her eyebrows.

“Lunch.” Hand nodded and fixed May with a stare. May’s face grew stony.

“No.”

“Have you eaten since you called me this morning?” Hand asked tersely, and May’s mouth tightened at the corners. “Let’s go.” May didn’t move. Hand cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to get them to drag you?” she said, jerking her head towards Clint and Natasha. “Because I absolutely will.” For a moment, Natasha was sure she was about to be ordered to knock May out and haul her to a restaurant, and it was the most terrifying few seconds of the day so far.

Hand beckoned May towards the door, and after glancing at Clint and Natasha, May obeyed.

* * *

May ate half of her shawarma, and Victoria counted it as a success. She had manhandled May into a chair between Barton and Romanoff and let them do the rest, keeping one watchful eye on May’s plate and the other on Loki. He was bound and standing where Thor could see him, but Victoria had taken it upon herself to make sure he didn’t try anything.

Lunch was silent, as was probably to be expected. Everyone was busy eating and staring into space. Rogers looked to be in shock, but Victoria left him for Fury and focused on May.

When they were done, Stark pulled a wad of hundred dollar bills out of somewhere and dropped it on the table.

“Great food,” he said around his last bite, looking unconcerned as one of the two employees nearly fainted. “Excellent service. Thank you.” Victoria rolled her eyes.

Thor grabbed Loki’s arm, and everyone but May followed them out of the restaurant. Victoria planted herself beside her.

“Any injuries?” she asked, watching as the others left. Romanoff glanced back, and Victoria nodded.

May didn’t answer, but Victoria didn’t look down until she heard the slightest gasp.

* * *

“Out of the way.” Victoria knew she was imposing and used it to her advantage; dusty civilians scrambled out of her way as she strode through the waiting room with May hanging from her shoulder. May winced and clenched her jaw, and Victoria knew she was biting back a groan.

“Ma’am, we’re overwhelmed right now- I promise we’ll get to you as soon as we-” Victoria pulled out her badge and slammed it onto the main desk, ignoring the nurse’s protests.

“I am Agent Victoria Hand, of SHIELD,” she said. “This woman just saved your city. Find me a doctor or I go back there myself.” 

The staff of the hospital was rushed and the atmosphere was hectic, but Victoria managed to get May to the top of every list. They didn’t have a bed for her, so Victoria paced next to her chair while they waited for test results.

May hissed through her teeth, and Victoria paced faster.

Doctors and nurses darted in and out, more than once with the wrong chart or instruments, until Victoria felt like throttling the next person to come through the door.

“Melinda Coulson?” A harried-looking doctor caught Victoria’s eye, and she beckoned him over. “Mrs. Coulson, I’m sorry for the delay, but we have your results.”

“Are you sure?” Victoria asked sharply. “We’ve gotten two false alarms.” The doctor grimaced.

“No- you are Melinda May Coulson?” he asked, flipping through the papers on his clipboard, and May nodded. Despite the chaos around them and the rush he was undoubtedly in, real sympathy came over the doctor’s face. “I’m so sorry, but you lost the baby.”

A small pain she didn’t understand opened a hole in Victoria’s chest.

“I see you’re experiencing some discomfort-”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Victoria interrupted. May was completely silent in her chair. 

“We have some medication-”

“I’ll get it.” The doctor didn’t argue; he had other patients to see. Victoria watched him leave, telling herself to stop staring and do something. But she couldn’t force herself to turn around. Not much frightened her anymore, but Victoria was scared of what she would see.

_ Stop it,  _ she told herself fiercely, and spun on her heel, ready to be hard and blunt and everything everyone hated about her, but May had always appreciated.

May’s chair was empty, and Victoria ran out of the room without another thought. “Hill! I need eyes on my location, stat. May’s gone off the grid.”

* * *

***WARNING- NEXT SECTION CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AND VOMITING. SKIP TO THE NEXT LINE BREAK TO AVOID IT***

A lot of things neither Victoria nor Maria wanted to imagine could happen in six hours. Maria called in Barton and Romanoff after the first two, and after Victoria briefed them on the hospital visit they had split up immediately, hitting each of May’s old haunts with speed and precision. Victoria called around- every hospital in the city, police stations, Lian May, Izzy Hartley, Bobbi Morse, anywhere May might have ended up or anyone she might have called. Maria coordinated the search from the helicarrier, but there was no news until four hours after May had disappeared.

“Vic,” Maria said curtly, and for once Victoria didn’t snap at the nickname. “Train heading south. Triskelion.”

“On it.” Victoria called for a quinjet while Maria rounded up Romanoff and Barton. The plane was filled with quiet, anxious tension, and Victoria didn’t say a word about Barton’s hurried landing. Fury had more to worry about than some crushed landing gear.

Victoria sent Barton and Romanoff down to Administration and sprinted to Coulson’s office, ignoring the shocked looks following her.

Coulson’s door was open. “Barton, Romanoff, up here now.” She didn’t hear an affirmative, but she didn’t need one. She stormed through Coulson’s door.

Victoria hadn’t screamed in years. Gun shot wounds, losing friends, losing contact in a heated battle, losing trust, alien invasion, none of it had brought her close. She pulled up short in the doorway, and May’s name hurt her throat screeching out.

Romanoff and Barton dove into the room, weapons drawn, but Victoria didn’t notice enough to care. May was slumped in Coulson’s chair, eyes rolled back in her head, and if Victoria hadn’t been in heels she probably would have vaulted over the desk to save the 0.5 seconds it took her to round it.

“May!” She shook May’s shoulders. “Agent May, look at me!” May’s head lolled back. 

“Hand.” Romanoff pointed to two bottles, one on the desk and the other rolling out of May’s hand. The scotch was half-full but the bottle of painkillers was empty. Victoria’s nostrils flared.

“Get medical up here now.” Romanoff was gone so quickly it was like she had vanished into thin air. Victoria pushed May’s chair back and gestured to Barton. “Hold her over the trash can.” Barton obeyed, face grim. He knew what was coming.

“You brought this on yourself,” Victoria growled, shoving her sleeves up her arms. She yanked May’s mouth open and forced her fingers down her throat.

It was slippery and painful and disgusting, and Victoria grimaced at the first wave of vomit. It coated her hand with mucusy bile, and Victoria pulled her hand away just long enough for the rest of it to fall out of May’s mouth. Oranginsh-brown substance streamed into the trashcan in clumps of half-digested shawarma and dozens of tiny blue pills. “Count.” Barton’s eyes darted over the pills as Victoria grabbed the bottle.

“Twenty-seven.” Victoria’s knuckles whitened.

“This holds fifty. Again.” Barton hefted May back over the trash can, and Victoria paused only to shake some gunk off her hand before plunging her fingers down May’s throat again. May’s stomach convulsed and Victoria gritted her teeth, probing forcefully for the back of May’s throat. Another wave of bile washed over her hand, with less food and less pills. The trashcan reeked.

“Thirty-eight.”

“Again.” May’s teeth scraped the back of Victoria’s hand, and Victoria flattened her fist. Her fingers slipped over each other as she clawed down May’s throat.

“Forty-four.”

Romanoff’s sharp voice reached Victoria through her haze. “In here.” May was taken from Barton’s hands, and he and Romanoff fell in behind Victoria as she followed May’s gurney from the room.

***END***

* * *

“Sit rep.”

“Washed down a bottle of oxycodone with half a bottle of scotch. Doctor said it must have happened minutes before we got there. Got most of it out before medical got upstairs.” Maria grimaced.

“You wash your hands?” Victoria flexed her fingers, still feeling the poison running over her hand.

“Only about forty-five times.” Maria half-smirked, but it slipped off her face as she turned to the window.

They hadn’t been allowed in to see her yet; once she had stabilized, the doctors had insisted on giving May a full examination while she was still out. Victoria didn’t blame them.

“Any complications with the-?” Maria’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. Victoria pretended not to see the tears in her eyes, and Maria pretended not to hear the waver in her voice when she answered.

“Miscarriage? No, not that they told me. They closed the curtains for about ten minutes half an hour ago.” Maria’s mouth thinned.

“And she didn’t know?” Victoria shook her head. There was a pause, and Victoria glanced at Romanoff and Barton standing together, arms crossed, mirror images of May’s usual stance. “I’m gonna say it.”

“Don’t even think it.”

“Vic.” Victoria’s shoulders drooped. “Alien invasion, May miscarried, we lost Ph-” Victoria sent her a sharp, pleading look. She wasn’t ready to hear it yet. “-Coulson.” Victoria held Maria’s gaze for a moment, then shrugged.

“Suppose you may as well.” Maria looked through the glass.

“I don’t see how this day can get much worse.” As one, Victoria and Maria glanced at the ceiling. 

_ “See?”  _ May had said, grinning through the rubber bullets whizzing past them. The Academy seemed like a lifetime ago.

_ “The sky didn’t fall.” _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The name of this document in my google docs is "Dumb Skye Bahrain" so make of that what you will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I went to post this I thought, "Is this necessary to the plot?" The answer is no, but I'm posting it anyway. Have fun.

“I know what happened to that little girl in Bahrain.” Skye had so much righteous venom in her voice; on any other topic it would have irritated Melinda to no end. “Did you know she was Inhuman?” Melinda had no idea what her face was betraying. She couldn’t feel her muscles, her skin, the air in her lungs- “So you, of all people, should know why they want to stay hidden.”

Phil was a fuzzy presence beside her, but there was nothing else. Nothing but Skye and her defiant tone, the disgust in her eyes. Disgust that, after so many years, Melinda had only recently stopped expecting. There was no air in the room; Melinda felt her lungs expand and contract but nothing came in, nothing, nothing, there was nothing-

_ “You killed Mother.”  _ Skye looking at her with respect for the first time, the day before she joined the team on the Bus. Skye berating her for treating Hannah harshly, but climbing into the copilot seat later.  _ “I need a new mother.”  _ Training Skye, pushing her to the breaking point, but never past it. Being pulled onto the couch next to Skye for movie nights and only pretending to resist.  _ “Take my hand.”  _ The walls shaking, Skye curling into herself with a scream. Bruises crawling up her arms.  _ “I need your pain.” _

* * *

Skye watched May stride out of the room and refused to feel guilty. Two years she had gently probed for answers, treating May’s past with kid gloves, assuming some monstrous person had done unspeakable things to her, but that she had survived. Skye had assumed May had overcome her captor and escaped, saving everyone else in the building. But all this time, May had been the monster who had done something unspeakable. No matter what Jiaying had said about Katya being mad and dangerous, there must have been another way. There must have. This was SHIELD, they were supposed to be the good guys. Good guys always found the good way.

She forced herself not to think of all the times she had nearly killed Ward, or Raina, or Garrett. That had been different.

Skye turned to Coulson, expecting shock and betrayal on his face. She was met with cold fury. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were dark, and Skye recoiled. His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that frightened her.

“You are way out of line, Agent Skye.” His voice was deceptively even, and somehow it was the worst part. Every fiber of him screamed disappointment, when the last thing she ever wanted to do was let him down. Shame bubbled up inside her, but she fiercely shoved it down.

“What are you talking about?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “How can you be in the same room with-?”

“You finish that sentence you’ll wish you were never born, understand?” It wasn’t the worst Skye had heard, but for the first time in years she believed it. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Skye raised her eyebrows, even as some small part of her begged to stop, to just shut up.

“What- you knew?” She managed to say it as if knowing made him guilty in some way, too, even though she knew he wasn’t. She just wanted his eyes off her, wanted out of this room suffocating her with regret.

“I did. We live in a complicated world, Agent Skye. You, of all people, should know that.” Her words stung flung back in her face, but she couldn’t force out a retort before Coulson was gone. Skye stood frozen in the middle of his office, staring after him.

* * *

The Playground was filled with dark side hallways and small closets, and Phil passed several before he found her. With her head down and her back to him, she nearly blended into the wall.

So many years.  _ So many years  _ he had been fighting to be allowed past her walls, to get her to see herself as the amazing person she was instead of the monster she imagined herself to be. And now with a few words from Skye, it could have all been undone. Phil spoke before he reached for her; in the months after Bahrain, any physical touch had sent her into a panicked or nearly catatonic state.

“She didn’t know.” She ducked her head and crossed her arms more tightly across her chest.

“She knew enough.” For a second Phil was almost relieved- if she was speaking she hadn’t regressed completely. Then she took a shaky breath, and it reminded him that if she was speaking, she could get much worse before she got better.

“No, she didn’t. If she had been there, she wouldn’t have said what she did.” Part of him was in denial that Skye-  _ Skye-  _ could say such a thing. After following Melinda around like a duckling for six months, becoming more like her everyday, and somehow worming her way deeper past Melinda’s defenses than anyone had in six years, Skye was still capable of that level of cruelty. The blaze of fury that had overwhelmed him in his office had mostly washed away, replaced by sadness and a sense of loss, which was ridiculous. Skye wasn’t lost to them, he had to believe that. But even if she was, she had never really been  _ theirs _ . From the beginning, she had been looking for her family, and now she had found it. Just not where Phil had thought she had.

Back when they had been trying, Melinda had wanted a boy. A sweet little guy with Phil’s eyes and smile, and relatively less teenage drama. Melinda had shared her dreams with Phil and he had cherished them, but secretly, deep in his heart, he had hoped for a girl. With Melinda’s beautiful brown eyes and huge capacity to love, a little person who would fill their home with sweetness and laughter. A girl who would grow up into a spitfire of a woman and sass and tease them endlessly, but also do tai chi with Melinda in the morning and watch old movies with Phil.

He would have adored a boy or a girl, but in the end their wishes came to nothing. Until Skye had been thrust into their lives and their hearts, with everything Phil had ever wanted in a daughter and so much more. 

He had tried to rein himself in, hold back parental feelings he had assumed she wouldn’t want. But then Skye had started to squirm into the cracks in Melinda’s heart and make her whole again, in a way Phil hadn’t been able to, and Phil couldn’t help loving her for it. Even now, looking at Melinda’s back and trying to figure out what to say, he loved Skye. But he couldn’t think about that.

Yes, Skye had worked her way into Melinda’s heart. And she had just ripped her way out from the inside.

“It wasn’t your fault, Melinda,” he said softly, and she stiffened. She had never really believed that, he knew, even back when it had been all that was keeping her sane. While grief and guilt had been tearing her apart, he knew she had clung to the fact that there had been no other way Bahrain could have ended. But at the same time, she couldn’t let herself believe it completely, and it had nearly destroyed her. It had nearly destroyed both of them, when she had been withering away in front of him and he had had no idea how to stop it.

Phil flexed his fingers at the thought, aching to reach for her. He couldn’t let her slip that far away again. “You did what you had to do.”

“Did you see the way she looked at me?” Tension coiled between her shoulder blades as she curled further into herself, and the brokenness in her voice squeezed around Phil’s heart.

“She doesn’t understand,” he said quietly, biting back another spike of anger. If Skye was still his agent at the end of all this, she would be doing paperwork until the end of time. 

Melinda took a shaky breath, and Phil cautiously reached for her arm. “Melinda…” Her shoulders started to shake, and he slowly pulled her into his arms.

She fell against him with a muffled sob, and Phil tucked her under his chin, enveloping her in his warmth. If they weren’t in the middle of their base and yet another crisis, he wouldn’t have hesitated to scoop her up and take her to their room. They could shut the world out as long as she needed, as long as it took Phil to make her understand how much she deserved. And she deserved so much more- more than being trapped underground more often than not, more than a team that was coming apart at the seams, more than a husband who had been forced to run off and leave her to deal with his mistakes barely a month after nearly being driven mad.

And she deserved peace. More than anyone Phil knew, Melinda deserved to sleep through the night.

* * *

_ “Stop, please-” Phil woke up with a start. “Don’t make me do this-” Melinda curled into herself, shaking. Phil knew better than to embrace her, or try to wake her up. He watched the back of her head as she continued to whimper, and gently placed his hand on her waist when she grew more distressed. He rubbed soft circles into her skin until she stiffened, and he dropped his hand. Melinda clutched the blankets closer, shifting as far from him as she could without falling off the bed. Phil ached, but he let her.  _

_ Post-nightmare conversations had never proven to be helpful. Phil let his breathing even out until Melinda relaxed, believing him to be asleep. It was the only time she was ever at ease with him. _

_ “I’m sorry,” Melinda said softly, and Phil held back a sigh. She was never this vulnerable when she thought he was awake, no matter how persistently gentle he was. Phil sank into his pillows and closed his eyes; he wasn’t meant to hear these things. “I don’t mean to wake you up.” _

I know. It’s okay.  _ Six months ago, she would have known without him having to say it. Now she needed to hear it, but he couldn’t speak, and Phil hated the barrier. _

_ “I shouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t want me here if you knew.” He did want her. He would always want her. He had been telling her that for months.  _

_ Phil slipped into half-sleep, just awake enough to know he wasn’t asleep, but not much else. It flickered through his mind that he would have to make especially sure to tell Melinda he loved her in the morning. _

_ “That girl didn’t get caught in the crossfire.” Phil’s eyes flew open. “She was going to kill everyone in the building. I thought I had to.” Melinda would notice if he stopped breathing. Phil forced his lungs to contract. Melinda tucked farther into herself. _

_ “I should have let her touch me. Then I’d be dead, too, like the baby. You wouldn’t be going through this.” No, he wouldn’t. He’d be dead. He would have compartmentalized for a few months, tried to keep going, but it would have been too much. Melinda had asked to go into the building, but she had done it with his authorization. His orders had gotten his unknown, unborn baby killed. Losing Melinda on top of that… he wouldn’t have survived. There was no question. _

_ “I can’t do this.” Melinda threw the blankets off. “You didn’t marry this. I shouldn’t be here.” She swung her legs off the bed, but Phil snatched her wrist as she tried to stand. Melinda froze. _

_ There was no sound, not even of breathing. Melinda switched on her lamp. _

_ Phil’s pain was clear on his face, he knew, but he didn’t try to hide it. Hiding his feelings and giving her space, treating her with kid gloves, had only brought them to this: Melinda ready to leave, and Phil on the edge of a panic attack trying to think of how to stop her. _

_ “Melinda-” _

_ “You were listening.” Her voice was flat and hard, her new version of angry. _

_ “I didn’t know you were going to-” _

_ “No.” Melinda wrenched her wrist from his grasp. “This is better. Now you know. We can get this over with.” _

_ “No, Melinda. Nothing is over. Please-” Phil scrambled out of bed and stood as close as she would allow. “Can I hug you?” Melinda’s eyes snapped to his, sharp and disbelieving. _

_ “Why would you want to-?” _

_ “Because I love you,” Phil said insistently, “and you’re hurting and I wanna help you, please-” He took a step closer and she flinched. Phil spread his hands in front of him, not touching her. He wouldn’t touch her if she didn’t want him to. Phil’s voice turned desperate. “Please.” _

_ Melinda scrutinized his face, and seemed confused to find no hesitation. “You-?” _

_ “Yes.” Phil reached for her, and slowly rested his hands on her arms. “Please, Melinda. I love you.” Melinda took a sharp breath, and Phil drew her to his chest. Her hands automatically went to his waist, but then she stood frozen in that position, barely breathing. Phil pressed a kiss to her head. “I love you.” _

_ Inhale exhale, inhale exhale, too quickly for him to count. Melinda took shallow breaths and Phil hoped desperately she wouldn’t pull away. “I love you.” _

_ Melinda’s knees buckled. _

* * *

“There could have been another way,” she said through sputtering breaths. “I could have made her understand-”

“There wasn’t,” Phil said firmly. “Melinda. There wasn’t.”

They’d had this conversation before, more times than he cared to count. It was practically scripted at this point. Once she had finally confessed what had really happened, and let him hold her every night when the nightmares came, he always had to repeat the same thing. Not that he minded; he would tell her every day of his life until she believed him.

“I love you,” he said, and hoped she wouldn’t answer. That she would just accept it.

“You shouldn’t,” she said quietly, and his arms tightened around her.

“I love you,” he said firmly, in a tone not to be disputed. She sighed and pressed herself closer, resting her head over his heart. It soothed her when nothing else would, irrefutable proof that Phil was back and here with her.

“I know.” Phil kissed the top of her head.

“No, you don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, multiply it by eight hundred sixty.” She let out a small puff through her nose that was almost a laugh.

“That’s specific.”

“I did the math.” Melinda smiled against his chest. Her arms wrapped loosely around his waist, and the quiet wrapped around them and sharpened.

“I don’t think she’s ours anymore, Phil.” Her blank voice wiped away his anger and sadness with muted nothing. Phil pressed another lingering kiss to her head as the heaviness of her words settled in his chest. “I don’t think she wants to be.”

* * *

She was a spy.  _ She was a spy,  _ she knew better than to run through the base, careening around corners, risking being spotted. But a tight, painful spot in her chest didn’t care, and Skye raced down hallways looking for May.

What had she done  _ what had she done- _

She had observed May’s closed off nature, seen the sadness in Coulson’s eyes as he recounted the mission in Bahrain. Once, late at night, she had even heard sobs from May and Coulson’s room mixed with quiet, soothing noises. She had made herself scarce, but May had been unusually quiet the next day. Drawn. Gaunt. And Skye had been  _ vicious  _ enough to stab May in her most vulnerable spot-

She rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, luckily before she was seen.

“There could have been another way- I could have made her understand-” She was  _ crying-  _ Skye regretted ever bringing it up, ever hearing it from Jiaying. She almost regretted meeting Jiaying, if this was always going to be the result.

“There wasn’t.” Coulson’s voice was insistent, and Skye’s heart clenched at his certainty. “Melinda. There wasn’t.” An agent walked by, saw Coulson and May, and immediately backtracked. Skye ducked out of sight until he was gone.

“I did the math.” Skye frowned, but Coulson didn’t explain himself. The silence around Coulson and May seemed charged, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

“I don’t think she’s ours anymore, Phil.” The air vanished from Skye’s lungs, and she told herself to stop being stupid. She had parents, parents who loved and wanted her, who had looked for her. She didn’t need Coulson and May anymore. Tears welled in her eyes, and she forced herself not to think why.

“I don’t think she wants to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be discussion of what happened in chapter one, but I wanted this first. I hope you liked it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone cares, this one is called "Dumb Skye throws May" in my google docs. It's cathartic.

“I’m sorry, May, you’re not welcome here.” For the first time, real fear sparked in Melinda’s chest. 

She had been hit by a truck before. This was worse. 

Melinda hit the ground hard, head spinning with the force of Skye’s blow. Or maybe the hard crack the stone ground had given the back of her skull. Melinda grunted.

“We don’t want SHIELD here,” Skye said, with righteous anger in her voice. “Leave us alone.” Melinda heaved herself into a seated position.

Every inch of her ached; it took her a moment to pinpoint the pain keeping her on the ground. Pain ripped across her stomach like the cells of her muscles were twisting and ripping into each other. Her back spasmed. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, still dazed. This pain was familiar, but the memory swam around in her head. She collapsed back to the ground, arms tight around her stomach.

She didn’t have time for this, this was enemy territory-

She remembered. Her eyes flew open.

“Skye!” Skye was a step closer than she had been, but the concern in her face became defiance when she met Melinda’s eyes. She turned away. “Skye, please-”

“I’m not coming with you, May!” It took too much effort to focus on her words; pain clenched around her stomach again and Melinda had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from screaming in terror. “If this-” Skye gestured to the burning building. “-is what SHIELD is about, I don’t want any part of it.”

“You don’t have to come back.” Melinda nearly choked on her words. “You don’t- I need to get to the quinjet-” She bit back another scream.  _ “Please,  _ Skye-” She struggled to her feet, but another wave of pain knocked the wind out of her. Her head swirled and her knees buckled.

Skye caught her. “Come on.”

SHIELD agents were converging on the remaining quinjet, shouting confused orders and hearing only chaos in response. All the noise washed over Melinda as she staggered forward, Skye’s arm firm around her waist.

“What’s going on-?”

“I can’t contact Burke, no one can contact the quinjet-”

“Where’s Agent May?” A footsoldier darted towards the path back to Afterlife. “Agent May!”

“Davis!” Skye called. “Here!” Any agent in his right mind would have leveled his gun straight at Skye’s head, and Melinda felt Skye raise her free hand in defense. But Davis didn’t seem to care; he rushed forward.

“Agent May, the comms are a complete disaster, no one knows-” A muffled scream ripped from between Melinda’s teeth, and Skye’s arms tightened around her as she fell to her knees. 

Without a glance towards Skye, Davis scooped Melinda into his arms and sprinted for the quinjet. Skye stared after them, looking lost.

“Why does no one know what happened?”

“Briefing said there are kids in there, we have to-” Somewhere in the madness, Skye slipped away.

Melinda’s stomach clenched and she arched in Davis’s arms as he strode up the ramp. Jemma broke off in the middle of a testy remark aimed at Agent Weaver.

“Sit rep, Agent May,” she ordered, and motioned for Davis to get everyone on the plane. Davis lowered Melinda into a seat, and ran out shouting orders. “What happened?”

“Hospital,” Melinda gasped. “Hos-”

“May?” Phil was on the feed with Weaver over Jemma’s shoulder, but she ignored him.

“I’m miscarrying.” To Jemma’s credit, the revelation did not seem to faze her for an instant. 

“Everyone in now!” she commanded. “Or be left behind!” What was left of the team barely managed to squeeze in before Jemma ordered the pilots to take off. “Fitz!” she said shrilly.

“Yep, on it-” Fitz’s voice came over the feed. Davis strapped Melinda into her seat. “Closest hospital with the required facilities is fifty miles northwest, sending the coordinates-”

“Director Coulson is on his way,” Weaver said in clipped tones, and cut the feed.

“All right Agent May.” Jemma knelt in front of her and took her hands with a firm expression. “Breathe.”

She  _ was  _ breathing-

“Breathe, Agent May,” Jemma said sharply, and Melinda filled her lungs. “That’s it.” Jemma squeezed her hands. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll be there soon.”

* * *

_ There was a curtain over the window when she woke up. Melinda blinked, and stared at the ceiling. _

_ Waking up had not been part of the plan. _

_ Her mouth was dry and disgusting and her throat was burning, and Melinda realized what must have happened. _

_ “I didn’t want you to do that.” In Melinda’s peripheral vision, Vic tilted her head. _

_ “Which part? Find you, or save your life?” Melinda glared at the ceiling. _

_ “Either.” _

_ “Tough.” Vic didn’t seem to feel the need to keep talking, and Melinda clenched her fists, looking resolutely at the ceiling. Vic had no right. _

_ There was a murmur from outside, and Melinda’s face darkened. None of them had any right. _

_ “I wanted to die.” _

_ “Like I said. Tough. We’re not losing you that easily.” _

_ “I don’t care about what you have to lose.” Vic stayed in an easy, reclined pose, but her face tightened. “I wanted to die.” _

_ “No.” Melinda’s outraged eyes snapped to Vic’s. Vic just raised her eyebrows, expression cool. _

_ “I wanted,” Melinda growled through gritted teeth, “to die.” _

_ “No.” _

_ “You have no right to-” _

_ “I have every right. You think this is what he would have wanted? You think this wouldn’t have broken his heart?” Melinda chuckled bitterly. _

_ “Loki did that already.” _

_ “Melinda May Coulson.” Against her will, Melinda met Vic’s eyes. Vic held her gaze as she spoke. “We all lost Phil, none of us more than you.” Hot tears sprang up behind Melinda’s eyes, and she hated it. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want any of it. She wanted to be gone. Vic stood up next to her bed, and looked down at Melinda with a piercing gaze. _

_“Don’t make us lose you, too.” Melinda forced a mask over her tears, squashed out every impulse to cry. Vic’s face hardened. “Can you imagine the lives of those agents without you?” She said, pointing towards the door. “Barton and Romanoff, two of the most bloodthirsty assassins the world has seen in fifty years. Two monsters_ you _made into people._ _You think they’d handle it well?” Melinda’s hands clenched around her sheets._

_ “Don’t call them that.” Vic scoffed. _

_ “They’d agree with me in a heartbeat. You were the first person to draw out any semblance of humanity from those two; you are their rock.” _

_ “They’re adults, they’ll manage.” Vic crossed her arms and straightened. _

_ “You are the last person on earth who deserves to die.” _

_ Melinda snapped. _

_ “None of those civilians in New York deserved to die.” Dark anger billowed inside her. “That girl didn’t deserve to die. The baby-” Her voice cracked. “The baby didn’t deserve to die. Phil-” She took a deep breath. “I should be dead instead of them. Instead of any of them.” Vic looked down at her, her hard look replaced with something softer, but inscrutable. _

_ “You can’t die instead of them, Melinda. Killing yourself will not make up for anything you think you’ve done.” _

* * *

Phil burst into the hospital, heart pumping madly. He left Fitz to do the badge flashing, instead barreling through the doors he was pretty sure would lead him to the ICU. His Nepalese was rusty, but he managed with Jemma’s directions.

It was happening  _ again-  _ how many times was he going to take her for granted? Again, Phil had sent Melinda into a dangerous situation, blindly believing she’d be fine in the face of an unknown threat, and again, his carelessness was going to lose them a child. Another baby they hadn’t even known existed, dead before they got to live. Of all the reckless- he’d been showing her off, idiot he was-  _ this is  _ my  _ agent,  _ my  _ wife-  _ rubbing it in the new council’s faces that the best agents were on his team, following his orders. That he was the man in charge.

The man in charge who had a bombed out negotiation and a wife in the hospital to answer for. He should have planned it better, with less ego, less certainty that he was right. And now Melinda would pay the price for his stupidity. The miscarriage after Bahrain had nearly destroyed her, how would she survive losing this baby the same day they lost Skye?

All the hallways looked the same, all the staff were rushing by without a word, Phil turned around and lost his bearings-

“Sir!” Jemma appeared and grabbed his arm. “Director, she’s in here.” Phil brushed by Jemma, but froze in the doorway. 

He managed to forget how small she was, sometimes. But she was petite in the hospital bed, covered with sheets and tubes and instruments. Phil opened and closed his mouth a few times before he was able to speak.

“How is she?” Jemma smiled and laid her hand on his arm.

“She and the baby are stable, sir. She was miscarrying, but the surgical team managed to stop the bleeding and save the baby.” Phil sagged and let out a shuddering breath. Jemma squeezed his arm. “I was just going to check her vitals.” Phil nodded, and watched Jemma flitter around Melinda’s instruments for a moment before he could move. Feeling as though he would topple over any moment, Phil mechanically took the seat next to Melinda’s bed.

Her hand was cold. He stared down at it without really seeing. The baby was alive. There was a baby.

They hadn’t discussed it in years, but it had once been one of their dearest hopes. 

Melinda’s fingers twitched, and Phil’s eyes flew to her face.

Slowly and with a look of great confusion, she blinked her eyes open. “Phil?”

“It’s me,” he said, squeezing her hand in both of his. “Melinda. I’m here.” Melinda squinted blearily at him for a moment, before lolling her head around on her pillow to examine Jemma.

“You’re my little British kid.” Jemma pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but as Melinda frowned up at her, Jemma’s eyes softened.

“That’s right. What do you remember, Agent May?”

“You like tea.”

“I mean about how you got here,” Jemma said gently, resting a hand on Melinda’s shoulder. She met Phil’s eyes and tilted her head toward the IV bags, and Phil relaxed. Melinda looked around the room.

“How did I get back here?” She said it as if she had been trying to get away from this place for a long time, and had somehow disappointed herself. Phil threaded his fingers through hers, and Melinda looked to him. Her jaw dropped slightly and her eyes widened and gleamed with tears; she looked horrified.

“Phil,” she said in a shaky voice. “I did something bad.” Phil was shaking his head before she finished speaking.

“Not your fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Vic said she wouldn’t tell you.” Melinda pulled her fingers from his grasp, fear and anger in her eyes. “She promised she wouldn’t say.”

“Vic-? Melinda, what-?” All at once she was on the edge of tears again, and Phil looked helplessly to Jemma. She shook her head and ran her hand over Melinda’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Melinda gasped. “You were dead.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You were dead, and then the baby was dead, and I didn’t even know there  _ was  _ a baby-”

“Honey-” Phil untwisted Melinda’s shaking hand from her sheet. “Did you have a bad dream? I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“I was supposed to take the pills when my shoulder hurt, but I never did, and you were supposed to drink that scotch with Fury, but you never did-” Phil knew the bottle she was referring to. He also knew it had been mysteriously half empty when he had returned from the dead, but that Fury had avoided his questions about it. His heart froze and sank to his stomach.

He was the one who would be lost without her. Melinda was the confident one, the fearless agent who came through no matter what. Phil was the one who agonized over details, who worried for Melinda every second she was on the field. That worry was more habit than it was necessary; objectively, he knew she could handle herself. But he couldn’t imagine his life without her as the steady rock beside him.

Vic and Maria had told and not told him enough for him to know Melinda hadn’t taken his death well. Vic had been blunt and Maria had been vague, but the hurt that had flashed through their eyes had shown what they hadn’t wanted to say.

But they hadn’t told him this.

Every sharp word and accusation he had shot at Melinda, on the Bus and during the whole Real SHIELD situation, burned a thousand times hotter against his conscience. He had hurt her so many times. And still she forgave him, let him back in, kept loving him through it all. Through Loki’s scepter and ICERs and alien writing and coups, Melinda kept giving herself to him wholeheartedly. Her skills, her experience, her body, anything he wanted. Just for him to hurt her, use her, take her for granted again and again.

And here she was, in the hospital and pregnant with his child.

“The last thing-” Melinda laid her hand over her stomach. Phil’s breath stuttered.

There was a baby in there. “-all that was left- and then there was nothing-”

“Melinda.” Phil tightened his hand around hers and cupped her cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. The baby-” A smile twitched on Jemma’s face at the catch in his voice. She looked near tears, but she didn’t stop stroking Melinda’s hair. “We’re gonna have a baby.” Melinda’s hand snaked tighter over her stomach.

“I’m pregnant,” she breathed. Phil nodded. “I’ve lost babies before.” His heart clenched at the reminder, and the plural.

“I’m sorry.” Melinda’s face crumpled. Minding the tubes, Phil half-stood from his chair and gathered her to his chest. Pain and terror poured out of her in shuddering sobs. “I’m sorry, Melinda.” He rubbed her back, and Jemma silently slipped out of the room.

* * *

“The hospital officials are not happy with us, I think we’re gonna have to make a sizable-” Fitz cut off with a huff as Jemma crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself as close as possible. “-donation.” Bewildered, Fitz slowly lowered his arms around Jemma’s back as her fingers curled into his cardigan. Her other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, thumb stroking over his hair as she started to shake. “Jemma?” With a sob, Jemma pressed her face into his neck.

Fitz’s heart stopped. “Agent- Agent M-May, is she-?”

“She’s fine. And the b-baby, they’re both-” Jemma clutched him closer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just-” She let out another sob. “Fitz, you- you know I want you to be happy, right?” Fitz frowned and Jemma pulled away, wiping her eyes. “No matter what happens, no matter what’s coming-”

“Hey, what’re you talking about?” Fitz glanced around at the staff passing by, and shuffled Jemma towards the wall.

“Nothing, I can’t- everything’s gone mad, and we never- never talked about what you told me at the bottom of the ocean-” Fitz opened his mouth but she rushed to cut him off. “-and I know it’s not the time, but-” She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Cautiously, she laid her hands over his arms, as if she were making sure he was really there. She stared determinedly at some spot on his chest, face blotchy. 

“Jemma-” She ran her hands up his arms to his face, and the world shrank to just her, staring up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I need you to understand,” she said deliberately. “That no matter what happens with the Inhumans, or whatever comes after, or whatever happens between us-” Fitz’s eyes, looking over her for any sign of injury as a clue for her behavior, shot to hers. “You’re my best friend,” Jemma said firmly, “and I love you, and I want you to be happy, even if it isn’t with me. Okay?” Fitz nodded. Her hands were still on his face.

“Yeah, okay.” Fitz pulled her back into her arms and she collapsed against him. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have plans for one more chapter, but I don't know when I'll finish it. Hopefully over Thanksgiving or Christmas break.  
> Thanks for reading :) Please let me know what you thought


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion! Thanks for sticking with me :)

“You’re Kent Jacobson?” The man nodded, tapping his thumbs nervously against the tips of his fingers. Melinda glanced over his file and was relieved to see he didn’t plan to be involved in any espionage. She dropped the folder; after the last two hundred she wasn’t expecting any surprises. “And you’ve been with SHIELD how long?”

Even after Jiaying’s death, chaos had reigned for what felt like forever. There were Inhumans to interrogate and resettle, a boat to catalogue, and dozens of agents to integrate into one force, if they wanted to integrate at all. Phil, at the head of the jumbled organization, had felt he had to be in the middle of everything, but Melinda had convinced him to delegate some of the larger tasks.

Like draining, annoying interviews.

“Six years.” Melinda waited a beat for him to continue, but he seemed terrified to speak. She bit back a sigh.

“What division?”

After dozens of identical interviews, a lot of the other tasks had started to look far more appealing than they had been two weeks ago. Daisy and Mack had discovered they worked well together as they settled the displaced Inhumans across the country, and Melinda knew Phil was eyeing them to head up a new initiative. With the lost terragen, Phil and Melinda agreed that the Inhuman problem would not take care of itself, and they wanted to get ahead of the issue before other agencies started noticing. The issue was close to Daisy’s heart, and with Mack to guide her, Phil and Melinda agreed she would do a good job leading the first effort to organize the Inhumans into a fighting force.

“Records, ma’am,” Kent Jacobson said in a shaky voice. Great, because that was the muscle they needed. Melinda met his eyes with a frown, and he gulped.

“You’re an archivist?” He nodded. “Shouldn’t you be helping on the ship?”

Fitzsimmons had gotten back into their normal groove doing inventory of the Iliad and finding safe ways to transport some of its more dangerous or mysterious cargo. Melinda didn’t have a lot of time to keep an eye on them, but Daisy and Hunter regularly reported that they were speaking to each other again, with some added tension, but not necessarily bad tension. Melinda smirked at the thought. After two years listening to them talk circles around each other but not have a single intelligent word to say about their own feelings, it was nice to know the two of them were finally getting somewhere.

“Well, yes, ma’am, but I was told I had to go through you, first.”

Despite Phil and Jemma’s objections, Melinda had taken on the task of going through the file of each crewmember of the Iliad and deciding whether to offer them a place in SHIELD. As soon as the ship had reached port dozens of agents had disappeared, and although none of them had caused any problems, Melinda had still tasked herself with tracking them down to make sure they remained under the radar. Phil was finally ready to start reaching out to the public again and reestablish SHIELD as a legitimate organization, and a few rogue agents could put a serious dent in his plans.

Those agents that wanted to remain had to be thoroughly debriefed, a task Melinda had outright refused to hand to anyone else. If any member of the “Real” SHIELD had ulterior motives, she was the best person on the base to sniff them out, and she knew it. So, despite her nausea in the mornings and her aching back in the afternoons, Melinda spent her days in one of the vaults calling in agent after agent and deciding who could be trusted. It all went downhill after the first agent on the first day, but of that one, Melinda was certain.

Daisy had insisted on putting herself through the whole process, despite everyone’s willingness to welcome her back. Knowing Daisy would accept nothing less, Melinda had put her through her paces, demanding answers for every bad decision she had made. She had hated the whole interview, even more so when Daisy burst into tears and went into another rant about how she would never be worthy of their forgiveness. She had flinched away from Melinda’s hug, fearful of being anywhere near Melinda’s unguarded stomach, but after a few more days of consistent kindness and compassion from everyone, she had started to come back into herself.

Now, staring at Kent the anxious archivist, Melinda was beginning to wish Daisy’s interview had been her last. Yes, their force had nearly doubled in size with the “Real” SHIELD agents, but despite Phil’s frequent assertions it would take at least another whole ship to replace her, Melinda was very ready to be done. She would only be gone a few months, anyway, and only in the loosest sense of the word. “Maternity leave” didn’t mean much when she and Phil lived on base. She fully expected to be conned into doing paperwork at some point.

It had been a struggle for Phil to get her to take any time out of the field at all, but mostly due to stubbornness on her part. She knew enough about pregnancy to know she would not be fit for work, training, or any kind of physical labor for a few weeks, at least. Probably longer, considering Jemma’s strict list of forbidden activities.

“Sparring, boxing, lifting-”

“Basically anything fun,” Melinda had groused, but Jemma had given her an uncharacteristically sharp look, and Melinda hadn’t argued further. Jemma needn’t have been so harsh; Melinda would have given in to Phil eventually. Her dear, annoying, overbearing husband had been reluctant to let her out of bed the day after they got home from the Iliad, let alone go to work. But Melinda knew it was born out of excitement, and gave into his demands she take it easy with only mild complaining. 

It was difficult to complain or pretend to be grumpy at all, even when her rolling stomach sent her lurching to the bathroom every morning, or her head throbbed as if someone were twanging an elastic band inside her skull. She had Phil, holding her hair back and bringing her water, and looking at her with wonder whenever she so much as touched her stomach. He had, of course, already started planning out the nursery, and had been consulting with Jemma about what supplies they would need. They both tended to go overboard and Melinda thought they were being ridiculous, especially considering it would be at least six months before they would need any of the arsenal they were stockpiling. Melinda had retained veto power over some of the more ludicrous purchases.

“No, Phil,” she had said firmly. “We are not buying a baby Keurig.”

“Melinda, it mixes the formula  _ and  _ heats the water-”

“That’s what a spoon and microwave are for. No.”

But besides keeping a tight leash on the online shopping, Melinda had let Phil fuss. There had been enough pain and misery in the last year, and the year before that, and the decade before that. After longing for a baby for so long and losing two, Melinda understood his overprotectiveness. She was anxious, too.

Telling the team about the baby had not been the joyful occasion it should have been. Daisy, who had found out when Jemma had dragged Melinda away for an ultrasound immediately upon her return from the Iliad, had been horrified. 

“Did I- May-” She had managed to splutter through rapidly shortening breaths. “When I hit you-” Only several clear reassurances from Jemma had been enough to keep her from passing out. She had refused to step closer to Melinda to get a better look at the ultrasound, but Jemma had turned up the heartbeat for her, and Daisy had listened for several long minutes before she would believe no real harm had been done. Even after two weeks, she was still skittish around Melinda, constantly eyeing her stomach while keeping a wide berth.

Fitzsimmons, of course, had found out when Daisy had sent Melinda to the hospital, and Jemma didn’t seem to have gotten over the trauma. She called Melinda at least twice a day to check on her and remind her to stay hydrated, and to take her vitamins, and a hundred other things, and Melinda let her. It would have taken too many harsh words she didn’t really mean to get Jemma to stop, and she appreciated her concern, anyway. It was better than Hunter glancing at her stomach like the baby was going to fall out at any moment.

“Right.” She leaned back in her chair, barely remembering not to rub her hand over her stomach in front of this stranger. It was tempting to just end the interview there and have him report for duty, but she forced herself to dive a little deeper. “What was an archivist doing on a ship?” Kent straightened a little and almost smiled.

“I handle the monolith,” he said proudly. Melinda blinked, expecting more.

“The big rock?” she said slowly. Kent nodded earnestly, either ignoring or completely missing her dry tone.

“Oh, it’s much more than a rock, Agent May,” he said ardently. “It’s been in SHIELD’s possession for decades; it was found in an ancient temple of unknown origin and has been kept in four different top secret locations. Before the Iliad-” Melinda held up a hand.

“I get it. But what  _ is  _ it?” Kent shrugged.

“Oh, I haven’t studied it. I only know its history in SHIELD, and how to care for it and transport it.”

Melinda resisted the strong urge to smack him, and took a few calming breaths. It had been her decision to interrogate all the agents before letting them continue their work. Hapless Kent was only following her orders. He probably knew nothing of the struggle Fitzsimmons had been having trying to determine what the monolith was and what to do with it.

“You’re cleared,” Melinda said, once she had the peace of mind not to say it a lot more colorfully. “Get back to work.” Kent blinked, but quickly smiled.

“Yes, ma’am!” He all but ran from the room, and Melinda slumped in her chair, tempted to push the last few interviews to the next day. Six hours of talking was enough. But then they would just be there tomorrow, probably not in great moods after days of waiting. Melinda pushed the intercom.

“Next.”

* * *

The hallway was as busy as ever when Melinda finally left the vault. About a dozen agents rushed by in the first few seconds, followed by another gaggle all talking over each other. From the middle of the noisy group, Phil looked up, caught Melinda’s eye, and brightened.

“Great ideas, everyone, get to work.” One young analyst looked confused.

“But sir-”

“To work, Williams!” Phil broke away from the group without looking back, and Melinda grinned. “Hey,” Phil said. Normally she didn’t allow PDA, but she didn’t protest when he laid his hand on her hip. It had been a long day.

“Busy?” Melinda asked, nodding towards the group of agents. They were milling around uncertainly at the next intersection, looking as if they were waiting for instructions. Phil pursed his lips and Melinda almost laughed.

“Not really,” he said, and sent the group a frustrated look that had them scrambling away. “Not compared to the last two weeks, anyway.”

“There’s been a lot going on.” Phil hummed in agreement, lazily looking over her face. His thumb traced small circles on the skin just under her shirt. It was too soon for either of them to feel the baby moving, but his hand always managed to migrate to that area. The black glove never came near her skin, despite her insistence that she didn’t mind.

“You finished with your interviews?” he asked.

“Yep. They reminded me why I don’t like people.” Phil gave her a fake hurt look, and she smirked. “After all that, you owe me a vacation.” She expected something along the lines of “absolutely, as soon as the world isn’t falling apart” and a stolen kiss. What she got was a knowing smile, and was instantly wary.

“Twenty minutes. Meet me in the garage. Pack enough for two weeks.” She blinked, but he didn’t laugh. Phil backed away, smiling his infuriating smile, and she opened her mouth to demand an explanation. “Twenty minutes. Clock’s ticking.” 

“Phil-”

He disappeared around the corner.

* * *

Every bone in her body was heavy in the best way. Melinda stretched under the sheets, and her body clicked in places it never used to, but on the most luxurious mattress she had probably ever slept on, all she felt was a happy buzzing feeling. Until she opened her eyes, anyway.

Phil followed her to the bathroom and held her hair back, seemingly half asleep himself. By the time she brushed her teeth and flopped back into the bed he was drifting off, his stump resting on his stomach. The sight sparked a reminder before Melinda could fall back to sleep. She nudged Phil’s shoulder.

“Simmons said check it.”

“Hmm?” He half-opened one eye and she nodded towards his stump. “Oh.” He tried to hide his grimace as she gathered the supplies to clean the stitches, but Melinda still gave him an exasperated look. He resisted when she moved to adjust his arm.

“Do you wanna do this yourself?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at his scowl. She knew he was sensitive about the stitches, and the stump in general, but ignoring them would not improve the situation.

“Not really.”

“Then sit up so I can get it over with.” Phil sat up with a grumble, and Melinda sat cross-legged and pulled his arm into her lap. She dabbed at the stitches the way Simmons had taught her, and wrapped soft padding up to his elbow so the black glove wouldn’t chafe. Phil watched her with a sullen expression, but she ignored him, focusing intently on her task. By the time she was finished, neither of them were in the fuzzy, sleepy mood to lie in bed anymore.

Melinda put away the supplies with sharp, frustrated movements, and Phil watched her for a moment before standing up and rounding the bed. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and gently pulled her close, looking regretful enough that she allowed it.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, and she slung her arms around his waist.

“It’s fine.” It was, and he knew it. She had done far worse for him than clean one of his wounds, and he for her.

Melinda ran her hands through what hair he had left, parting it this way and that. She smirked, and he heard her teasing remark without her having to say anything. He kissed her, but she kept smiling, and despite himself Phil smiled, too.

“So,” he said once they pulled away. “Breakfast?” Melinda wrinkled her nose, deliberating.

“Not yet,” she decided. “We have two weeks here?”

“Yep,” Phil answered, and her lips quirked.

“That’s not a lot of time.” It was longer than most vacations they had taken in their careers, but Phil nodded seriously.

“We’ll have to be efficient with our time.”

“You’re the strategist.” Phil nodded, brow furrowed as if he were deeply in thought. Melinda watched him with soft amusement.

“Well, since we’ve both already seen most of Paris, I think we’d probably be better off staying in here.” Melinda nodded, biting her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Melinda whisked Phil away to their wedding, so he whisks her away to a second honeymoon.  
> Thanks for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Phil will be back, and the team will be here, too.


End file.
